


Dear Asami Sato

by Themanofmanyhats



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Angst, Childhood Friends, Coming of Age, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Growing Up, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I love all my kids equally, Korra doesn't know she's the Avatar yet, Pen Pals, Romance, because it's cute, the krew find each other as kids story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2019-06-21 16:35:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15561918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Themanofmanyhats/pseuds/Themanofmanyhats
Summary: Dear Korra,My name is Asami Sato. I am 5 years old and I was born in Republic City in the year 152 A.G. My mom’s helping me write this letter. She told me you live in the Southern Water Tribe and that you’re a waterbender. That’s really cool. I’ve never met anyone from there before. Write to me soon, okay?~~~An AU where Asami’s mother unknowingly lines up the stars when she refuses her daughter be homeschooled and finds a too-big-for-this-town girl from the Southern Water Tribe (who may or may not know she’s the Avatar yet) to be her penpal.





	1. Letterhead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 157 A.G.

_Dear Korra,_

_My name is Asami Sato. I am 5 years old and I was born in Republic City in the year 152 A.G. I live with my mom and dad in the city. My dad makes satomobiles._

_My mom’s helping me write this letter. She told me you live in the Southern Water Tribe and that you’re a waterbender. That’s really cool. I’ve never met anyone from there. What’s it like? Does it snow everyday? Do you like it there?_

_She told me you’ve never been to Republic City so I want to tell you about it. Republic City is the capital of the United Republic of Nations, it was originally a Fire Nation colony before Avatar Aang turned it into its own nation. The city grew exponentially (that means really fast) in size and population to become what it is today. I have a big book all about it, you should read it, it’s called ‘Yu Dao to Republic City: The Making of a Nation’. It has lots of pictures in it but I hope you get to see it in person one day. I can see Kyoshi Bridge and the bay from my bedroom and when it’s lit up at night it’s the prettiest thing in the world._

_Write to me soon, okay?_

_Yours Truly,_ _  
_ _Asami Sato_

* * *

 “Your daughter needs friends, Hiroshi.”

Yasuko peeked out the curtain, where outside, her daughter played amongst the newly planted fire lilies in the garden, alone save for the resident turtleducks bobbing in the pond. Her husband muttered something in defense from his desk. She pulled up a chair and joined him, brushing blueprints off the tabletop. “You might be ready to spend the rest of your life with only us and your machines, but Asami most certainly isn’t.”

Hiroshi gathered himself up, already knowing this debate. “We can bring her friends here. And she’s free to go wherever she wants, I just want her to be taught close to us. There’s nothing wrong with being homeschooled.”

“Hiroshi.”

“They’ll be the best tutors in the world! She’ll be the brightest mind in the city!”

“Hiroshi,” and here Yasuko gathered her husband’s hands in hers, “Asami will be the brightest she is no matter where they teach her. That girl’s got your mind and then some, if you haven’t noticed. That’s not what I’m worried about. What I’m worried about is that she’s never spent time with kids her age and she’s not about to find any in this neighbourhood. She needs to find friends. In her own time. In her own way. People who she can trust and go on adventures with. Friends that can teach her things, and be there for her once we can’t.”

She rubbed soothing circles across his palm. Neither of them liked to think of a future where they were both gone from Asami’s side, but it was a day that would inevitably come to pass - Yasuko refused to think otherwise. There was nothing she could do to stop the day from coming, but she would do whatever it took to make sure her daughter had someone by her side that would love her as much as she did.

Hiroshi sighed, defeated. He understood, but that didn’t mean he liked what it meant.

Yasuko continued to reason with him. “She needs people that can challenge her and change her. Like how you changed me.”

“No. Like how _you_ changed me, Yasuko.”

“And we certainly didn’t meet on some pre-arranged playdate, did we?”

“No, we didn’t,” he chuckled. “But a private school, at least? You know we have the money to send her to the  best.”

“I know. But I’ve been to enough of your business dinners, dear, and those schools are filled with too many people like that. Kids who’ve never had to want for anything in their lives and parents who’re the same. I know not all them are like that, but I don’t want our daughter to grow up not knowing how the other half lives. Just try it for awhile and see how she likes it. If it doesn’t work out, we have our other options. You know I just want the best for her.”

“So do I. You’ve just always been better at knowing what to do about these kinds of things than I am.”

“You’re a wonderful father, dear.”

He smiled at that. “I never said otherwise.”

“But you were thinking it.”

And of course he had been, because Yasuko was never wrong about those kinds of things.

“Did you get any word from your friend in the Southern Water Tribe?” he asked, once again turning to his blueprints.

“Oh, yes. She said she had a friend who had a daughter around Asami’s age. Waterbender, apparently, and full of energy. She said the girl jumped at the chance to talk to someone outside her city.”

“Name?”

Yasuko thought for a moment. “Korra, I think it was. I might bring Asami in after this and write up a letter together. Hopefully this’ll lead to something good for the both of them.”

* * *

_D_ _ear Asami Sato,_

_My name is Korra and I’m five and a half years old. I live with my mom and dad and I’m going to start school in a month and I can’t wait. Oh, and I’m an awesome waterbender._

_Republic City sounds so cool, I want to go there someday! My mom and dad, they’re writing this letter for me (hello Asami!), they says I can go visit when I’m older but they say that about everything and they never tell me how old ‘older’ is._

_The Southern Water Tribe is big and cold and boring. It snows a lot but not everyday. I like it here most of the time but sometimes I wish I lived in the Fire Nation where I could meet a dragon and it’s not so cold. Or Ba Sing Se so I can climb the walls. Or Republic City with you!_

_It’s really nice to meet you even though we’ve never really met but you sound really cool and I hope you write me another letter soon._

_Your Penpal,_ _  
_ _Korra_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who rewatched Korra and fell _hard_. 
> 
> This was more of a prologue than anything. So is there any interest in this? Because there’s like a 20 chapter potential here, and I’m debating whether or not to throw my soul into that abyss. (I probably will in the end. I have no self control)
> 
> A beta would be nice too, if anyone’s willing.


	2. By Firelight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 158-159 A.G.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this thing is getting written. There was no stopping me. I'm gonna try for weekly updates (emphasis on try). Thanks for the response and kudos so far, and giant thank you to ScarredSky for betaing!
> 
> Also, there is a timeskip from last chapter, so there have been letters sent in the background you didn't see. Most chapters will have a timeskip, I'll try to make more notes of dates within the actually chapters next time. Other than that, forgive me for the angst that's about to come. It's a necessary evil.

_ Dear Korra, _

_ School just started and it’s been great so far. Class is fun, even if I already know about everything that we’re learning, and my classmates are nice. Most of the time. Some of them get annoying, but mom says we all have to deal with annoying people sometimes. _

_ I hope everything’s going well for you, too. I can’t believe you found a polar bear dog! I borrowed a book from the library all about them. Apparently, they’re meant to be completely wild and either attack or run away from humans on sight, and no one’s ever trained and kept one  as a pet before. I think you might be the first! Can you believe it!? Naga must’ve seen something special in you. _

_ Also, I sent you a picture with this letter. I realized you had no idea what I looked like, so I asked my mom to send you our family photo. It’s me, my mom and my dad. I think you can guess who’s who. _

_ Yours,  
_ _ Asami Sato _

* * *

 

Mornings began early for Asami, though she didn’t mind. Her mother woke her up in the morning with a kiss on the forehead and something that smelled delicious wafting from the kitchen. She’d take a bath, find her school clothes laid out on her bed, and join her parents for breakfast downstairs. Most days, her father was there, though some days work brought him out of the house earlier than usual, or kept him up till late and made him sleep through the morning.

Her mother always made time though. She’d join Asami in the backseat as the chauffeur drove them to the school - a rather long commute, but both of them enjoyed the growl of the car engines. It rocked Asami to sleep more often than not.

School was a red brick building deep in the heart of the city - clean, stately, welcoming. It was a nice place - Republic City was lacking in many things, but education was not one of them. That, along with some very generous grants from Future Industries, kept the place thriving.

The inside was colorful, the work of other students hanging proudly on any surface it could find. Classrooms were spacious enough, with windows that let sunlight filter through. There was a schoolyard, mostly concrete with a stretch of grass on one side, and all of it walled off from the smog of the street cars on the other side. A great big banyan looking tree sprouted in the back, perfect for climbing, although most kids stayed away from it ever since one little girl had sprouted a raging rash after spending too much time around it.

Asami had entered through the big wooden doors on her first day, smile on her face, though hand still clutching her mother. She remembered looking out into the sea of faces, kids from all over the city - benders, non-benders, soon-to-be-benders - and to the warm, slightly wrinkled face of the woman who introduced herself as her teacher. Then her mother had made her way to the doorway and gave her a small wave, before Asami was alone.

“Hi’s”, “Hello’s” and “Do you wanna play’s” were exchanged. Names too: Rana and Song Hyun and Dea and Li and Lee and more. And Mako, of course. Firebender, frowned more than smiled, bit of a goody two shoes, if Asami was being honest.

The two weren’t fast friends, they didn’t strike up conversation on a whim or chase each other across the schoolyard, but they found themselves gravitating towards the other. Always the first to raise their hands or finish their work. They found themselves in the back of class, happy to work in silence while the others rambled. They were similar in a lot of ways. Sharp minds that soaked up info like a sponge and were ready to put in the work to back it up.

And they both had an aversion to the nonsense of the other kids. Asami downright refused to acknowledge that there could ever be a thing as ‘boy’ colors and ‘girl’ colors - the idea was ridiculous and she’d use whatever damn crayon she wanted. Mako, for his part, once deadpanned “Girls don’t have cooties” when the other boys had tried to tell him otherwise. Rather mature for their age, those two.

If asked, they’d call each other friends, but then again, kids those age were forced to call everyone in their class ‘friends’. If asked, they’d call each other friends, and later find that they meant it.

School went on like that. An early morning wake up, a long drive with her mom, work that was easy as long as she put in the effort, classmates that made her smile more often than they didn’t. There was a happy beat to it all.

She’d get a letter from Korra on the weekends, telling her about all the trouble she’d been up to in the south, and that girl got into a  _ lot  _ of trouble. Korra just about terrorized the Southern Water Tribe. Every week it was “whoops, tried to stick a sled landing and broke my arm”, “whoops, Naga fell through the neighbour’s roof yesterday”, “whoops, slammed an icicle into a kid’s face and broke his nose on accident”. The broken nose was the accident - she’d meant to hit him with an icicle.

It should’ve annoyed her - it was troublemakers like that that got on her nerves in class. But with Korra, it was different. Maybe it was the physical distance between them, or how she could feel the hum of excitement from her letters, or how honest and open Korra was when she wrote. Asami found that she just wanted to join her.

One night, Asami sat at her desk alone, blank page out and pen fisted in her hand. Her dad was out at work tonight, and her mother was downstairs, working with some contractors on renovations to the mansion foyer. There was a steady  _ thump, thump, thump  _ of something being built. Her mother would be up as soon as they were done, but Asami had been working hard on her writing all year and wanted to start on her own.

_ Dear...Korra… _

The characters were scratched onto the sheet slowly. They came out neat, if a little lopsided.

_ There’s only a month of school left … and mom says we should go somewhere fun for vacation… _

_ Thump, thump,  _ the work downstairs kept on.

_ Like the Fire Nation… or maybe we could even come visit you! _

She wrote a bit more about the business of the week: how school was going, those dumplings she had at Kwong’s that were the best things she’d ever tasted, the renovations going on around the house - there had been a loud  _ thump  _ from downstairs, and then the noise had come to a stop.

_ Give Naga a big hug for me… and write back soon. _

The last part she knew how to do well, the looping characters and sign of her name, the ones her mother had shown her to write on the very first letter they’d ever made to Korra. She was focused on her pen strokes, so focused that she didn’t notice that the noise from downstairs had started up again with bangs and crashes, or that footsteps were thundering through her hallway, until the door to her bedroom swung open. One of their servants stood in the doorway, panting, face as white as her dress shirt.

“Are you okay?” Asami asked.

“Asami, come with me. We need to go now.”

“Why?”

The woman steadied her breath, took her hand and tried to give her a reassuring smile. “It’s going to be alright, dear, just come with me.”

Asami noticed that she didn’t answer her question, but the noise from downstairs had become violent, and her heart was leaping too hard for her to do anything but nod.

They slipped out through a backdoor, got into a satomobile that was waiting for them and drove away. She started crying when she saw the flames licking at the front of her house and wouldn’t stop until the orange glow disappeared - and spirits know the fire was so huge it took them fifteen minutes into the city before that happened - only for her to start again when no one would answer her when she asked where her mom was.

Back in the house, the letter had fallen to the floor of Asami’s room, the ink still drying. Somehow, she had managed to finish it. Even though the final character had grown a tail where she’d accidentally dragged her pen across the paper, the final words were there:

_ Yours,  
_ _ Asami Sato _

* * *

 

_ Dear Asami, _

_ Everything’s going great down here! Naga learned not to go to the bathroom inside the house which is good because mom stepped on some a few days ago and she almost threw both of us out. School is ok. Everyone’s nice but the teacher is always like “sit down, Korra” or “don’t wrestle your classmates, Korra” or “you can’t ice people to the wall, Korra”. I’m doing super well in my waterbending classes by the way. _

_ Thanks for the picture! I put it next to my table so I can imagine I’m talking to you while I’m making this letter. Your dress is really nice and your dad’s moustache and glasses are cool. Your mom looks really pretty. You look a lot like her. _

_ Your Friend,  
_ _ Korra _


	3. Condolences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 159 A.G.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter ahead. Angst flows like water to me - if you didn't know that from the past stuff I've written, you'll know it by the end of this chapter. Thank you all for the reviews! And thank you again to ScarredSky for editing and supporting this angstfest!

_Dear Asami,_

_You haven’t written me a letter in a long time. Is something wrong? Did I write something you thought was mean, because I wasn’t trying to be mean. My teacher says I do that sometimes. I’m sorry if I did. Please write to me soon._

_From,_ _  
_ _Korra_

* * *

The days after the raid of the Sato mansion blurred in Asami’s mind. She didn’t go home for a week. She stayed in one of the rooms of her father’s office building and was handed from servant to servant that wouldn’t answer her questions - why was she here? Why couldn’t she go home? What happened to the fire? Where was her mom?

Sometime during that week, Hiroshi finally came to her door - he hadn’t slept, too busy dealing with the police and all around dreading the thought of facing his daughter after the tragedy. Yasuko was always better at comforting.

“Dad!” Asami yelled, jumping up to meet him.

“Asami, sweetie,” he said, wrapping her in his arms. “I’m so sorry.”

That was the only trigger needed for her to start and tear up again. “Dad, what’s going on? Why was the house on fire, dad? Where’s mom?”

Asami was a smart girl. She’d been left with nothing to do but think and the ideas that sprang to her head about where her mother could be, why the servants were so silent, and why her father looked so tired were dark clouds in her mind. She wanted to be proven wrong.

“Asami… I’m sorry,” Hiroshi said, tears fogging his glasses. “The triads tried to break into our house. The triads - they’re bad people, Asami, they’re monsters. They burned our house. And your mother… she-she didn’t make it.”

 _Didn’t make it._ She didn’t understand what that meant. Her mother had been right downstairs that night. She’d taken her to her room and brought her the paper she’d used to write. Asami had heard her voice from down the hall, saying goodnight to a maid. She couldn’t be gone. That didn’t make sense.

Asami wanted to tell her father that, but none of the words came. All that came were tears - it didn’t make sense and she didn’t want to understand it - and the tears didn’t stop.

Hiroshi held her tightly, needing her comfort as much as Asami needed his. “It’s alright, sweetie. I’ll make sure whoever did this will be brought to justice.”

And that was what Hiroshi did, busying himself with the work of putting the people who had taken his wife away - the people who had deprived his daughter of her mother -  into a jail cell. His life in those days were filled with policemen and politicians, broken only by the moments he spent with his daughter, and the planning of the funeral.

The first funeral Asami ever attended was the one for her mother. They dressed her up in a black gown she hadn’t even known she owned, sat her down next to her father in a satomobile she’d never seen before, and drove them to a field outside the city she’d never been to. There were people dressed in whites and blacks, a few she recognized although most were strangers. They touched her shoulder and cried tears when they saw her. Their words were kind, but it was all too much to take in, so she clung to her father’s arm like a lifeline.

She couldn’t fully understand what any of it meant - the flower arrangements of pure white, the candlelight and incense smoke, the block of stone that read her mother’s name. Some of the women had looked pityingly at her when she voiced her confusion, telling her that they were gathered here today to say goodbye to her mother for a final time. But that didn’t make sense. How could you say goodbye to someone who wasn’t there?

Asami didn’t cry, not when the ceremony had started, or when she’d seen the wooden box everyone watched so reverently, or when the hole they lowered it into was covered over in dirt. None of it made her particularly sad. If anyone had said “Your mother died in the fire. She won’t be coming back” she would’ve cried, but no one said those words. They said things like “Your mother was a wonderful woman” and “We were lucky to have known her” and “You’re very brave, Asami”, and none of those things made her want to cry. She did shed tears in the end but they were hidden in her father’s sleeve - even if she didn’t quite understand it, tragedy permeated the air, too thick to ignore.

After that, she returned home for the first time since that fateful night. They entered through a side entrance; the foyer was still under construction.

It was strange to be back. Other than the parts still being rebuilt, the house was just as she’d left it - pristine hallways, the deep reds of the carpets, the scent of her mother’s favourite firelilies blooming in their vases. The facade was only skin deep however. In reality, everything had changed. Walking to her own room, even in the light of day, made her feel like she were out past bedtime, sneaking where she shouldn’t be. It was silent, like the whole house was wilting. And when the foyer was finally opened again, it looked nothing like it once was - red accents and rustic design substituted with blank chromes and hard modern edges - like erasing what the room once was would erase the memory of what happened there.

The change didn’t only encompass the house but its inhabitants as well. Hiroshi spent his weeks working with the police to find the people responsible for the crime, and when that chase was done, he spent most of his waking hours in his workshop. What Asami did see of him was different from what he’d been before - a sullen man, quick to snap at the servants for a mistake or accident. A man who only came to her with sad eyes, instead of a happy story or word of a new invention.

Asami had turned as silent as the house. She’d tried to visit her favourite places - the turtleduck pond, the mini-workshop her father had made for her on the second floor, the big flat rock at the back of the garden they’d used as a picnic table on summer days - but she found they could give her nothing. There was a time she’d considered the huge size of the mansion perfect for hiding and exploring and making her own adventures. Now it just made her feel bitterly, bitterly lonely.

Letters started to stack on her desk, but reading them without her mother felt wrong, and writing one back would be nothing short of impossible. How could she explain any of this - her mother’s death, her own emotions - when she barely understood it herself? So the letters stacked, unopened, and it became harder and harder for Asami to get up in the morning.

Every day a nanny would wake her up, lead her down to breakfast and sit with her as she ate. Every day they’d ask her if she wanted to go to school that day and every day she’d say no, maybe tomorrow. The days became a week, then two, then a month, and then school was over for the year.

Summer was no leisure, not when what she really needed a break from was all around her. Every step, there was a memory. Her mother haunted every hall.

So when her father came to her at the end of the summer and asked if she’d like to start being homeschooled, she thought about it, and said no. She missed school, she’d always been happy there, had always been welcomingly challenged and kept blissfully busy. And any change must be better than the empty halls of her house.

When school began in the fall, Asami joined the returning class. No one asked where she’d been before summer - mercifully, most kids were forgetful. Some must have known, given the sad looks her way, and her teacher was exceedingly gentle with her. Told her to take her time, never picked on her when she didn’t raise her hand, and always gave her a smile and a pat on the shoulder when she was last out for recess.

It helped. The distance from her home, the work to busy her day, the familiarity of old friends. There were entire days where she could forget anything had ever happened. She smiled, she laughed, she played games with them, but still, it was too easy for the scent of a familiar perfume, or the blooming of firelilies on the sidewalk, or a voice that sounded too much like her, to sap the energy from her bones.

Things were getting better, but the pain was far from gone. Most days on the schoolyard, Asami sat back on one of the benches they’d propped up against the school building, a metal canopy above her for shade. It was nice to just watch the others go by, even if she didn’t want to join them.

One of the younger kids from a few grades down came up to her one day. He had bright green eyes, greener than her own, bushy eyebrows above them and a wide smile that was missing a few teeth. His hair reminded her of a turtleduck tail.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi. I’m Bolin!” His grin stretched even wider somehow. “Wanna see a trick?”

Bolin. That was Mako’s brother. He’d mentioned him before.

Most of the other kids left her alone these days - she always said no to whatever game they asked her to join anyway - so Bolin already made her curious. She said sure to his trick.

Bolin cheered and bounced on his toes, then scrambled around looking for something. He settled on an old bottle and a craggy rock, about the size of a lychee nut. The trick had a bit of setup apparently - he placed the bottle at the far end of the bench and balanced the rock on top of it. Happy with that, he ran back to the other end of the bench, stepped back even farther, and started to frame up his makeshift target.

“Watch this!”

With a stomp that shook the ground more than that little body should have, a tiny stone shot up into the air, and with a punch, it went flying forward. It flew straight and true, knocking the other stone while leaving the bottle intact.

Bolin cheered again, a little too soon, because the stone bounced upwards off the school building, ricocheted off the canopy above them, and nailed him right on the forehead. He yelped and landed on his butt. Asami laughed before she could stop herself.

“Didja see that? I did it!” he said, rubbing his forehead.

“You hit yourself on the head. Are you okay?” She held a hand out to help him up.

“I’m fine, it didn’t hurt. Well, just a little, but it’s okay. My dad says I have a thick skull.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yeah! If you’re an earthbender! You get hit on the head all the time!”

“I’m glad I’m not an earthbender then,” she said, but Bolin seemed so excited she didn’t really mean it.

“My brother says that,” he climbed onto the bench next to her. “I’m Bolin. What’s your name!”

She laughed again - either he was forgetful, or the hit on his head had wiped the memory of him introducing himself earlier.

“Asami.”

“Nice name. Can I tell you a joke?”

“Sure.”

He did that little surprised bounce again, brightening up immediately, as if he weren’t used to his offers of tricks and jokes being met.

“Well, I uh, don’t remember how it starts but I know the last line is ‘I’m bushed!’ I think it had something to do about tea...”

Asami could only manage a small laugh out of her nose, more at his scrunched eyebrows than the joke.

It didn’t seem to deter Bolin. “It wasn’t that funny when my mom said it either. Ooh, did you know that the old Earth King had a pet bear? Like, not a platypus-bear or an armadillo bear. Just a bear! I don’t think that’s even real!”

“Actually, bears are a rare, naturally occurring hybrid of existing species,” Asami said matter-of-factly. “For example, if a platypus-bear and an armadillo-bear were to mate, they’d have a chance of producing a pure bear. Or an armadillo-platypus-bear, but that’s even rarer. They proved it at Ba Sing Se University. I read a book about it.”

“I’m not sure what all that means,” Bolin said, eyes all big and curious, “But tell me more.”

They talked on that bench for the rest of the break, and between Bolin’s ability to find new topics on a whim and Asami’s vast knowledge on just about any subject, the two probably could’ve talked through the rest of the day if they’d let them.

Asami had noticed Mako as well, skirting at the edges of her vision, glancing at them from time to time. When they were in class again, the two of them working silently at the back as usual, she brought it up.

“I met your brother. He’s really funny.”

Mako looked down at his shoes. “I thought he could make you laugh. I’m not… I’m not good at that.”

The rest of the day passed quietly, happily, and many days after that followed suit. No one could stay sad very long next to Bolin, and soon the earthbender was dragging her out into the schoolyard and making her join his games. He could even get his brother to join them sometimes. The hollowness she’d felt after her mother died was slowly being filled, until she could come home and almost forget anything had ever happened.

It was only in rare, unexpected moments that Asami would remember that things were not alright.

One of the girls - Rana, she was nice, if a little bit of a hothead - had found out she was a firebender a few days ago, and now she was gathering a crowd in the schoolyard when she said she had a few tricks to show. Asami had joined the haphazard circle in the corner of the field, curious, just like the rest of them. When the first flames sputtered from Rana’s hands, a wild, hissing red glow, Asami’s stomach started to churn. Her feet stepped back without her consent.

It didn’t make sense. Fire didn’t scare her. It never had before. Even when her mother had told her stories of the Hundred Year War and how the Fire Nation had almost burned the world to the ground, she always told her it wasn’t fire or firebenders to blame. The elements were just elements, nothing to be afraid of. Yet everything about the fire pulsing from Rana’s hands told her to run.

Asami forced herself to stare at the flames. She shouldn’t be scared. It wasn’t like Rana would hurt her, and besides, these were barely sparks.

Mako’s voice broke through the _oohs_ and _aahs_ of the other kids, “Stop it. We’re not allowed to firebend out here.”

“It’s fine, none of the teachers are watching. Look at this!” she said, and threw her sparks straight up into the air as a plume of fire.

The flame must have caught the tiniest feather or leaf in the air, because the smell of burning was suddenly in Asami’s nose. And then it was all she could smell, and the sight of her house in flames was all she could see.

“I said stop it!” she could hear Mako yell, but she had already turned around and walked away as calmly as she could.

Were they staring at her? She didn’t turn around to check, just wanted to get away where no one would bother her so she could figure out why she suddenly felt like crying. She found herself sitting at the foot of the banyan tree in the back, which was deserted as usual. No one would bother her there.

At least she thought so; she’d just had time to start breathing easy again when Mako found her.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said to the ground.

“I’m sorry about Rana,” he turned his head to scowl, “She was being stupid.”

“It wasn’t her fault. I’m the one being stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” he said it like a fact.

Asami shrugged. Being scared of a few sparks certainly wasn’t something smart.

Mako shuffled his feet in the dirt, probably wondering if he should leave, but surprised her when he sat down on the roots next to her. They sat in silence for a while - Mako was never much of a talker and Asami didn’t feel like saying anything - and it made her feel like they were in the back of class again, working wordlessly at their tables. It helped calm her.

“You’re not stupid,” he repeated. “Fire can be dangerous and she wasn’t being careful with it. It-it’s scary. You have to control it.”

Asami raised her head. “But you’re a firebender. Are you scared of it?”

“I’m not scared of it. But I burned the curtains once and I was pretty scared then. And I… I heard what happened. To you.”

Her head sank back to her knees. She remembered the week in her father's office, the day of the funeral, the summer she spent in the suffocating loneliness of her house. It’d all started when she saw flames out of the car window that night. The memory made her pulse quicken. Fire had taken her mother away. Maybe it did make sense why she should be afraid of fire. Why she should hate it. Yet she could imagine her mother’s image, shaking her head, saying no, it’s not right.

“My mom always said fire and firebenders aren’t evil. There are just evil people who use firebending. So I shouldn’t be scared of it.”

“My mom says the same thing,” he said.

They were quiet again, and she thought that that might be where the conversation ended - this was the most she’d talked about what happened with just about anyone, aside from her dad - but Mako surprised her again.

He looked her in the eyes for the first time since they’d gotten to the tree. “You’re really brave. If I lost my mom, I - I don’t know what I’d do. I’d never want to go to school again.”

“But then you’d never get to see me, stupid,” she said. He’d broken eye contact at the idea of losing his own mom, and Asami had had the sudden urge to comfort him.

“Oh. Yeah.” That made him smile unexpectedly. “My firebending doesn’t scare you?”

Asami looked at Mako, nervous, often awkward, Mako. She was taller than him. They always fought for the top spot in any contest during gym class. She could probably take him to the ground in a fight if it came to it, though she couldn’t imagine them fighting for any reason.

She said with a bit of a smile, “You don’t scare me.”

He was hesitant to ask his next question. “Does fire scare you?”

She was hesitant to answer. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to show you?”

She looked at him again. He was nervous, with his offer hanging in the air, scrunched eyebrows reminding her a little of Bolin. She didn’t know if she was scared of fire. But she knew she wasn’t scared of Mako, and she knew he would never hurt her. She nodded yes.

He held his hands out in front of him and took a deep breath. An orange flame bloomed between them, steady and warm, the light licking away the shadows from under the banyan tree. When she looked at it, she thought of the fireplace they had at home, the one with dragons carved into the mantlepiece. They’d sit around it during bad winter storms, when the electrical lights would flicker, and the glow of the fireplace was the only steady light. It was pretty.

That’s when Asami decided she wasn’t scared of fire - she couldn’t be, not when being shoulder to shoulder with a firebender as a flame danced in his hands made her feel so warm.

The fire had taken a lot from her, but she wouldn’t let it scare her and she wouldn’t make herself hate it. She wasn’t going to let it take away anymore of her time or her happiness. Things were going to be alright. That night, Asami knocked on her father’s workshop, paper in hand, and asked if he could help her write a letter.

* * *

  _Dear Asami,_

_I’m so sorry about your mom. I’m so sorry about everything. These last few weeks must have been terrible for you and I don’t know what to say._

_Your mom was an amazing person and you’re being amazing too. Your mom was always so kind and loving and you must miss her so much. I don’t really know what I’d do in your shoes. I don't know if I could be as strong and brave as you’re being._

_I remember one night a long time ago, my dad went out with some of his friends to go hunt, and they were gone for a really long time. A snowstorm blew in one night while they were away. I don’t think I’d ever been as scared as I was that night. I kept thinking what if something happened to them, what if they were lost? I couldn’t go to sleep, I just went and stared out the window even though it was completely white. I couldn’t imagine losing my dad._

_My mom found me and she stayed with me all night, told me everything was going to be alright and that even if I didn’t know what was going to happen, I had to be brave. I think she was scared, too. We lit lanterns on our window sills and kept the fire going in case he came back that night so he could be warm. My mom taught me how to carve a snow dove out of wood - she said snow doves always found their way, even through the worst storms. I sent the one I made that night to you. Look at it if you ever feel alone so you know I’m here for you._

_When he finally got home, I gave him the biggest hug I’d ever given anyone. He said they were okay, they found a nice cave to hide in during the storm. He said it took so long because he accidentally thought Eel Hound Peak was Camelback Ridge, which was a dumb mistake because an eel hound looks nothing like an arctic camel._

_I wish I could be with you right now and give you a big hug, too. If you ever need anything or want to say something, I’m here for you. I promise I’ll always be here to listen._

_Love,_ _  
_ _Korra_


	4. Live On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 160-161 A.G

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter, sadly next chapter will likely be late as well - I just moved country and uni starts on the 4th. On the bright side, I moved to Canada! Shoutout to the like, 10 Canadians who read this thing. Thanks for letting me in your country <3

_ Dear Korra, _

_ It’s been another great week here in Republic City. Fall’s coming to an end and the leaves are just flying off the trees. I guess you don’t have that down there. It’s amazing, there’s so many colors and when the wind blows past, there’s so many things moving and changing that it’s hard to describe. Maybe like a big snowstorm, except with leaves. I think you’d love jumping in the piles, there’s hundreds in the streets right now. _

_ Yes, I’m doing well. It’s been a good year, one of the best in a while. Things have been great at school - still top of the class of course, even if Mako’s memorized more of the multiplication tables than I have. I’ll catch up, don’t worry. My dad took me out to the fair last week. He’s doing stuff like that a lot more often. I know he’s busy a lot so I’m just thankful he has time to do stuff with me.  _

_ Fall is the season of thanks, by the way, so I thought I’d take the time to say thank you. I know things were bad a few years ago for me but you helped me get through that. You were there for me when I needed you, even though you could’ve stopped writing a long time ago, and I don’t say thank you enough for that. I’m thankful that I have you, and my dad, and Mako, and Bolin. I don’t know what I would do without all of you. I’m thankful for a good year and I hope next year is just as great. _

_ Yours, _ _  
_ _ Asami _

_ P.S - Bolin says hi. _

* * *

 

“Who’s Korra?” Bolin asked, glancing at the letter she had been writing in her hands.

The three of them were sitting on the lip of the wall that boxed in the school, waiting for Mako and Bolin’s parents to pick them up. Asami’s chauffeur was already there, but she was never in a hurry to get home. There was a chill in the air, heralding the oncoming end of the year 160 AG.

“Korra’s my penpal.”

“Oh, cool,” he said. “Uh, what’s a penpal?”

She laughed. “A penpal is a friend from another city or nation that you write letters to. Korra’s from the Southern Water Tribe.”

“Woah, you’re friends with someone from the Water Tribe! That’s so far away! Have you ever seen her before? What does she look like? How do you even know she’s real?”

“Because she sends me picture. And I trust her.”

“That’s so cool! How long have you known her? What’s she like?”

“I’ve known her for about two years now. And she’s… she’s awesome. She’s funny and fun and always looking for adventure, even if it gets her into trouble sometimes. She always has new stories to tell. It’s like she never runs out of energy. She’s so confident, like she can do anything.”

A thousand more things to say came to her mind the second she stopped talking - how Korra and Naga had once chased off a pair of poachers hunting snow leopards, or how she’d once tried to stow away on a cargo ship headed to the Fire Nation. Or how amazing of a waterbender she was and how she’d even impressed Master Katara when she came to visit their class. Or how even with all the trouble she caused, she only ever wanted to help people, that she dreamed of being a hero and having the world know her name.

It surprised even her, how much she knew. She certainly didn’t know anyone else as much as she knew Korra, maybe not even her dad.

“Did you tell her about me?” Bolin asked, not even bothering to look shy about it.

Asami laughed again. “Yes, Bolin, I told her about you.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her there’s this kid in first grade that keeps annoying me.” He pouted. “I’m kidding. I told her you’re an amazing earthbender and that you’re funny and you always make me smile. She thinks it’s cool how you’re an earthbender and Mako’s a firebender. There’s really only waterbenders where she lives.” Korra had also said that she wanted to try fighting them if they ever met, but Asami kept that part out.

“Wow, that’s awesome! Mako, Mako, did you hear that?”

“I’m right here, of course I heard you.”

“Can you imagine? Korra’s out there somewhere, doing something right now and she knows about us! And we never even met her! Ooh, Asami, tell her I said hi!”

“I’ll do that.” She added  _ P.S - Bolin says hi  _ to the end of her letter.

“Korra’s somewhere out… uh,” he turned in circles, wondering which way to point. Asami knew the bay was to the west, so she figured out south and pointed accordingly. Bolin faced that direction and shouted at the top of his lungs, “Hi! Korra! It’s Bolin! Hi!”

“Bo, she’s across the ocean, she can’t hear you,” Mako said. 

That didn’t deter him. “Wow, I never knew you could make a new friend without even meeting someone. This is awesome! I wonder what Korra’s doing right now.”

Asami was about to answer “Sleeping” and then most likely have to explain time zones to him, when their father appeared down the street and the two jumped up to meet him. 

As they waved goodbye, Asami found herself staring off to the south, thinking of a certain waterbender across the sea. If she’d maybe turned in her sleep when Bolin had called to her. She wondered if Korra ever thought about them. If she went about her day imagining where they could fit in her life, like how Asami could see Korra bounding through Republic City streets on Naga, or joining her in the backseat of a prototype satomobile on the racetrack at home. Or if she too had an ever-growing list of things to show her when they met. Asami’s list included the best sights, a strange array of street food, and a championship pro-bending match.

They still didn’t know when Korra would be coming to visit. Her parents still said she was too young and that they needed to save more money for the trip. Asami’s father said about the same thing when she asked if she could go to the Southern Water Tribe - she was too young to go alone and he was too busy to go with her. The two were consigned to wait. Asami was patient; Korra swore she’d try to stow away on another ship if they didn’t go by the time she was 12. Patience, they learned, was one of the differences between them.

Thankfully, they had things to keep them busy. They both had school in the morning, another thing they had differing views on. School was a highlight of Asami’s day - it was usually interesting but easy, she was top of her class, and it was where she got to see Bolin and Mako. Korra found school a complete bore. Except gym, of course - she never got bored of pummeling the rest of her class into the ground - and strangely, history. She loved to learn about the world, what it used to be, how it came to be what it was today, and especially the heroes that had brought it into the age they lived in. Any day her class learned about the Avatars of past, Asami could expect a long winded letter to arrive at her doorstep.

Korra had waterbending classes after school and to say she excelled was an understatement. For most people, that’d be enough action to tire them out for the rest of the day, but not Korra. She had a tundra to explore, a polar bear-dog at her side and a hundred and one more stories just waiting to be made.

Asami’s days went a little quieter, less public destruction, more reading and tinkering. Looking over her father’s shoulder as he toiled in his workshop became one of her favourite pastimes. She started her own project, with much help from her father. A little mechanical dove that was meant to flap its wings when a crank on its back was coiled - a gift to Korra. The little wooden dove she’d sent her years ago still perched on her desk. 

Before she knew it, it was the last day of school before winter break, and Mako was trying to drag his brother to where their parents were waiting to pick them up. 

“C’mon Bolin, we have to go,” he said.

“Awww, but I don’t want to go yet!” the earthbender whined. He dug his heels into the dirt, literally, and pouted at her.

“Don’t worry, we’ll see each other again,” Asami said.

“But that’s in the future! I hate the future!”

There was a pang in her chest as well. It might pale in comparison with Bolin, but she’d miss them too. But that was no reason to hate the future. The future would come eventually. They’d meet again one day, just like how one day, Korra would come to their shores. They just had to be patient. And besides, it was only a few weeks.

Eventually, they managed to pry Bolin from the dirt. They said their goodbyes, Mako with a wave, Bolin with a hug, even their parents with a smile and a wish of “Have a good break, Asami!” They faded into the street, her last view of them being Bolin draped over his father’s shoulder, waving her goodbye.

Winter went by in a flurry of letters and snow, grease stains from her father’s workshop and nights pouring over her multiplication tables - Mako had memorized up to his 8 times, they were only supposed to be learning up to their 12 times this school year, and Asami, overachiever she was, decided to memorize up to 14 before she was back in class. When it came to learning, Asami was as tireless as Korra. 

There were nights where she lost herself in a book or project, with only a candle at her bedside as light. On the last night of the year, it was about the same, except every few minutes, she’d glance up from her book to the clock on her wall to make sure it hadn’t somehow ticked past midnight without her knowing. When it came to ten minutes before 12, she stepped outside to her balcony, too restless to wait.

It wasn’t snowing, but the cold was sharp even through her pajamas. It was fine, she’d only be out there a few minutes, though she wondered how the crowds gathered against the bay could stand it. Even from her balcony, she could see the shoreline shifting in a dark mass, car headlights dead still on Kyoshi Bridge. She once called the view from her room the prettiest thing in the world, and it was still true today. 

She looked out to the sky as she waited, caught sight of the crescent moon and the handful of stars that showed through the city lights. The Southern Water Tribe had their New Year’s hours ago, but she wondered if Korra had stared up at that same sky as she had waited for those final minutes to tick by - a sky with a blanket of stars, but the same moon as the one Asami stared at now.

Then, the dark above Yue Bay exploded in showers of gold and bursts of red and blue and green. Even from her balcony, she could hear the distant  _ pop  _ of fireworks, carried over the roar of the crowds. She grasped onto the railing, leaning closer without thinking, and letting the colors dance across her eyes. Korra would have loved it. If she’d tried to write it on paper, she wouldn’t have known how to describe it. Like lightning strikes if they came in every hue, or stars if they fell in showers.

She wondered if Mako and Bolin were down there, somewhere, watching the fireworks, too.

Once the show was over and the sky dark once more, all that was left was silence, the white spots she tried to blink out of her eyes, and the cold settling into her bones. She went inside, closed the door tight, and hid under her covers for warmth. A new year, she thought to herself. Who knew what would come?

The days after fell away, and Asami was raring to get out of the house and back to school. She was ready to spit fire multiplication facts the second she got back into class and throw it in his face, but Mako didn’t show on the first day back. Or the second. Or the third. Or the week after that.

Neither of them showed - no Mako joining her in the back of class, no Bolin bouncing up to her in the courtyard, no more sitting with them at the front of the school waiting for their parents to come. 

They must be sick, she thought. The flu spread like wildfire in the winter, after all, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to have both brothers catch it at the same time. It was a bit of a stretch for something like the flu to leave them out of commission for a so long, though. A month, and more. After two, she started to think something was wrong.

One day, after everyone else had left for recess, Asami went up to her teacher’s desk and asked if she knew when Mako would be coming back to class. She looked at her sadly. There was a quiet moment where the teacher seemed to consider what to say, the creases around her eyes deepening. When she opened her mouth to say they had to move across the city and were going to a different school now, she didn’t meet Asami’s eyes.

They’d moved. Of course. That was a logical explanation. People moved all the time. Perhaps their parents had found new jobs, or they needed to move house, or they’d found a better school across the city. There were a myriad of reasons why they might’ve had to go - without letting her know. 

Their loss seemed to roll like water off a turtleducks back for the other kids, but Asami couldn’t say the same for herself. School was missing something. Just like how after her mother died, the house felt like it was missing something, too. The days went on but as if on pause, waiting for something. 

On the morning drives to school, dread sat by her in the backseat. She dreaded what she would find when she walked into the classroom - or rather, what she wouldn’t find. That Mako or Bolin hadn’t miraculously reappeared, or hadn’t come to visit - school was the only place they’d know where to find her, and they hadn’t exactly let her know where she could find them.

So she trudged to school everyday, went through the day sour, and went home tired, knowing it’d be the same again tomorrow. Her father noticed the change in her. He asked her every now and then, when she seemed especially out of it, if perhaps, maybe, she’d like to start homeschooling instead. It made sense to - she’d long since exceeded what they were teaching in class - but she always said no.

She was still waiting. And Asami was patient. 

The months went by, until it was just a few more weeks till summer vacation. One day broke from tradition, with her and her father driving out to a field outside the city, where the sun colored the grass gold and set the orange and red of the wildflowers aflame. She’d been here twice before - once last year, and once more the year before that. It hadn’t changed much since last time, other than the addition of a few more headstones here and there. The few oaks that dotted the plain may have grown a few feet. The block of white stone that bore her mother’s name stood straight and solemn as ever. They laid flowers at its feet and wiped down the grave, as they did last year. So much of it felt the same, but as she stood by her father in silence, she knew things had changed since she’d been here last.

It was two years since her mother had died. Everything had changed then, and just as things had started to settle, everything was changing again. It had been more than six months since she’d seen Bolin or Mako.

Her life seemed always bound to change. She lost people, like the trees lost their leaves in fall. And no matter how patient you were, dead leaves wouldn’t stick themselves back to their branches. If her life was bound to change, perhaps it was time for her to change with it.

* * *

 

_ Dear Korra, _

_ School’s ending in a week and I know I should be excited but I’m not. It doesn’t feel right.  _

_ Mako and Bolin haven’t shown up since winter break. They didn’t even come to visit. If I knew where they moved I would visit them, but I don’t, and I guess they don’t care enough to come visit me. _

_ Dad asked me if I wanted to start homeschooling next year. I think I might try it. I don’t really want to be in the house all the time, but I also don’t really want to be at school anymore either. I don’t know what I want to do anymore. All I know is that I feel alone all the time - everywhere.  _

_ I know I sound stupid but please write to me soon. I like knowing you’re there, even if you are halfway across the world.  _

_ Yours, _ _  
_ _ Asami _


	5. Hit the Streets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 162 A.G.

_ Dear Asami, _

_ I know it’s getting tougher out there for you. It’s been more than a year since you started homeschooling and I can only imagine how lonely it gets. Stuck in a huge compound with just some teachers and trainers around for company - I don’t know if I could stand that! I know you’ve already tried bringing some friends in, but you told me how that went. It’s the same story every time - you try to be their friend, you invite them over, and then they try to use you for your money. I don’t get it. You know, if I was there, I would punch those kid in the face for you. If you said I could. I know you’re into that ‘violence isn’t always the answer’ thing. _

_ All I’m trying to say is I’m here for you, if that helps. I know we’re far apart and we don’t do much other than write letters, but I think what we have is pretty special - I have other friends in school, but none of them are on the same level as you. You’re the only one I would call my best friend. _

_ I’m sorry it’s getting lonelier out there, but I’m sure there are still people around that are worth your friendship. Try to get out more! Explore the city, cause some trouble - I always manage to find someone interesting that way, even if it is by crashing through their window. Republic City’s huge! Just go out there and have fun, don’t even try to look for anything. I’m sure you’ll find something - my dad likes to say that you always find something when you’re not looking for anything at all.  _

_ Best wishes, _ _  
_ _ Korra _

* * *

 

Asami’s days usually went like this: get up at 8, get dressed, eat whatever the chef cooked up that morning, then run along to whatever room her tutors wanted to be in that day. After lectures in history,  mathematics, arts, science, a short lunch break, then a class in etiquette, geography, and a couple other subjects she couldn’t remember off the top of her head, Asami rounded off her day with a session in self-defense. 

It was a required course, which simply meant it was a course her dad had firmly suggested she take. It was something that he might not have taken no for an answer on, not that she would’ve said no in the first place. 

The class was light, mostly stretches, some basic jumps and how to land them - balance, flexibility, how to fall without breaking all the bones in your body. Y’know, the basics of self-defense. The holds and kicks and punches would come later, when she had the weight to put behind them.

She made her way across one of the beams of the gym, one foot in front of the other, heel-to-toe, bent her knees, leapt when she reached the end, tucked and rolled across the matting of the floor, and stuck the landing. Her trainer, a stout, older lady with eyes that crinkled in smile lines, erupted in applause. Asami knew it was all fanfare, but this was usually the most exciting part of her evening, and it made her grin either way.

“That’s it for today, Asami,” she said, “You can wash up and be off to the workshop early.”

“Actually,” Asami said, “I was thinking of going to the park today,”

Her trainer quirked an eyebrow. “That’s new - but good choice. Plenty of pine nuts out there this season. A good snack if you wanna go through the trouble of opening them. Have fun out there!”

Asami stored away that bit of info, and was out the door to find whoever she needed to ask to head out. Probably a nanny and a chauffeur. Hopefully her dad wouldn’t make a guard tag along. That would’ve defeated the entire purpose.

_ Get out more,  _ Korra had written.  _ Explore the city. Cause some trouble. _

An escapade into the city - well, the park, at least. She wasn’t ready to do a full Korra and take the city by storm, but a trip to the park was enough. Anything to get out of the tedium her life had found itself in. 

It was fall now, she’d turned 10 a few months ago, and it was already a full year and a bit longer since she’d started homeschooling. When she’d started, it hadn’t taken long to get into the rhythm of things. Her tutors were brilliant teachers that paced her just hard enough to make it a challenge and her house was as big as a school anyways - she was just the only student.

It got lonely fast. It was a big house with not enough people, long hallways with no life. Asami fought to keep the loneliness at bay - she knew what it was like to be consumed by it, she was reminded of it everytime she passed her mother’s portrait.

She’d tried to hold on to some friends from her old school. They were nice enough kids, and they’d promised to write to each other when Asami said she was leaving the school. Those friendships never lasted long. She invited some of them over every now and then, and well, once they made it through the front foyer, the were usually too busy gawking at the house to pay Asami much attention. Or worse, they clung on closer, and it didn’t take a genius to know their reasons. When people saw her wealth, they changed, and Asami was growing tired of people changing on her. 

After any experience like that, Asami would usually grow cautious of writing letters back, until the letters stopped entirely, and her list of prospective friends grew shorter and shorter.

Her life was kept shrinking, until she feared it would just be her, the house, and the comfortable cycle of work she’d figured out for herself. That’s why she’d sent that letter to Korra - if there was one person who knew about freedom, about going against the grain, it was that girl. Her life knew no bounds, it spanned all through the Southern capital and went as deep into the tundra as she dared to go. 

She was going to take Korra’s advice, one chauffeured trip into the city at a time. The car sped along the road, the growl of the engine and the bumps on the asphalt reminding her of the time long past, when she used to make this trip everyday. She used to take this trip alone - or with her mother, if you went farther back -  but now there was a nanny sitting with her in the back seat, a middle-aged lady who Asami found nice enough, but who had a habit of turning her chin up and looking down at her when she talked. It was better than a bodyguard, at least.

They reached the park as the sun was on its downward climb, when its light was bright but gentle. The park was a humble marvel, a spot of quiet in the heart of a roaring city. The grass was well tread and dazzling green, somehow richer than the pedicured lawns back at home. Arching bridges crossed the mirror-faced streams that flowed throughout the park. She could spot schools of koi swirling in the water. Trail your eyes upwards and you’d see the canopy of green and gold forests that spanned the grounds, and look farther up and you’d see the towers of Republic City gleaming above, like its own species of monstrous tree. It’d been too long since she’d last been here. The place was just waiting to be explored.

“Don’t go off too far,” her nanny reminded her. Then she found herself a bench, put down her bedazzled little purse, opened up a newspaper, and took root there. It was easy enough for Asami to start slipping away.

Look, before you judge her disregard of orders, Korra had said to get out there, cause a little trouble.  _ Too far  _ wasn’t a tangible measure of distance anyway - who knows how far  _ too far  _ is? Asami wasn’t about to ask. It was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, anyway.

Asami blended into a group crossing the bridge and ducked away to the other side. She had a little rush of adrenaline as she did it. Korra would probably tease her about it, but hey, one rule break at a time.

The park was just as beautiful on the other side. There was a group in the center of the plaza doing stretches, maybe yoga, maybe bending forms. There were families around, exploring the grounds, throwing breadcrumbs to the turtleducks, and having picnics on the green. She vaguely remembered doing the same things whens she was younger, much younger, when her mother was still around. Her father rarely took her out anywhere these days- he was in his workshop most of the time - and if he did it was to formal dinners or galas. There were other kids running across the field, laughing, playing around. It’d been awhile since she’d done that too. 

Asami turned away from the field to get her mind off it. Pining wouldn’t get her anywhere. She started on a lightly worn dirt path leading into the trees, looking for nowhere, hoping to get a lost. 

The path melded into grass pretty quickly, and Asami found herself wandering through a grove of trees, the undergrowth growing wilder. Sunlight speckled through golden leaves, the sound of families and other kids began to dim. She went deeper into the foliage, until into opened into a little clearing, where the grass stood unbent, and a group of stoic pines rose up in the midst of red and yellow trees. It was serene. Quiet. A perfect little lost place.

The sanctity was broken in a moment - she heard a rustling in the trees. There was movement from somewhere above, and then an armful of pine cones fell to the ground. Asami looked up and found a kid, a little younger than her, sitting on one of the branches of the pine. His clothes were ragged and his hair a mess, and his tongue was sticking out a little as he picked at one of the pine cones, his bright green eyes focused on the task.

He looked so familiar… she couldn’t help the name from slipping from her mouth.

“Bolin?”

“I’m not stealing anything!” he blurted. He stumbled backwards, lost his balance and plopped out of the tree and onto his back with a  _ thud,  _ throwing pine nuts into the air like confetti _. _ “Ow!”

“Are you okay?”

He sat up, rubbing the back of his head, bushy eyebrows scrunched up just like they did all those years ago. “It’s okay, I have a thick skull.” 

Asami stared, wide-eyed. “It really is you.”

“Mako says not to talk to strangers,” Bolin said, “But you know my name so I guess you’re not a stranger. Do I know you?”

“It’s me, Asami.” She went cold for a moment when all he gave her was a blank stare. Did he not remember her? It’d been almost two years since they’d seen each other, Bolin was so young when they met. Maybe he did forget… no, he couldn’t have, she wouldn’t let him. She’d recount every dumb story she had of him until he remembered her. 

She didn’t have to, because after a moment, Bolin jolted upright like he’d been struck by lightning.

“Asami! I remember you! We used to go to school together - you used to let me have some of your lunch because you had these little chocolate cookie things I always liked and you would sit with me at recess and teach me big words and you somehow always found me when we played hide-and-seek. Everytime! I still don’t know how you did that!”

Bolin was practically shaking with energy - or maybe that was the ground. He leapt up and wrapped her in hug. 

“You’re kinda hard to miss, Bolin,” she said, a little teary-eyed because the memories were coming back to her, too. “Where’ve you been?”

He pulled away, eyes bright with excitement.

“So many places! You wouldn’t believe it! I’ve been at the docks and the fish market and downtown and Little Ba Sing Se and the park in north part of the city. I went to the train station - it’s really nice there, especially under the statue during the winter. Oooh, and there’s this little  _ estuary  _ we go to and find shellfish there sometimes. And the sewer city with all the other homeless people, and y’know it’s pretty nice down there even if it is a sewer.”

Asami was about to ask what he meant, why his clothes were so torn, why he’d gone to so many places, why hadn’t he visited her, and also laugh that he remembered the word  _ estuary  _ that she had taught him all those years ago, when all of that was cut short. There was a rustle in the bushes.

“Bo, I snagged this purse from this lady by the-” 

Mako appeared through the shrubbery. He froze when he saw her, quickly hiding what he was holding - some sort of sequined bag - behind him. He was like a fox-deer caught in headlights. If she made a sudden move, he’d probably bolt.

Bolin broke the silence. “Mako! It’s Asami! You remember her, right?” 

“Yeah, I do.” He eased a fraction, hands still behind his back. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean what am I doing here? What are you two doing here? Where’ve you been? I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“Me neither,” he muttered.

“But now we’re back together! I can’t believe it!” Bolin said. “I’m sorry I almost didn’t recognize you, Asami, it’s just, it’s been so long and so much changed since - since…” He trailed off, smile faltering.

Asami’s grin wavered as well. It had been a long time since they’d last seen each other, since that last goodbye before winter break, and since that first day back in spring, when she sat in class alone. All the months that came after, as she waited and waited, before she finally gave up. She’d spent so long trying to forget them, to spare herself from missing them, and to stop herself for pinning blame on anyone for leaving. Now here they were, thrown back into her life, and as much as she wanted to just cheer and smile, an old bitterness started to nip at her mind.

“Where’ve you two been?” she asked.

Both pairs of eyes fell to the ground. Mako kicked up some dirt. “Y’know. Around.”

“You’ve been around here the whole time?”

“More or less.”

“And you never came by the school to visit? Or even just to tell me where you moved?”

Mako looked confused. “Moved?”

“What?”

“We never moved.”

Asami blinked hard, anger gone for now. “But that’s what they told me. You two moved. Across the city. That’s why you left.”

“Well, we did move, kinda,” Bolin piped in. “They sent us to the orphanage on the other end of the city, that’s why we left the school. But we didn’t want to! That’s why we ran away in the end!”

“Orphanage? Why were you in the orphanage?” Neither of them spoke. She waited for an answer in silence, letting Bolin’s words settle in her mind.  _ Orphanage. Ran away.  _

Without warning, the moment gained a new clarity to it. Asami found herself noticing things she’d brushed off before - the raggedness of their clothes, the thinness of their frames, why Bolin had traveled so much, why Mako had looked like a kid who had been caught stealing when he first saw her, why they were both alone here. Asami was a smart kid. The pieces fell into place. 

“What happened to your parents?”

Tears sprung up in Bolin’s eyes, but he quickly hid them in the folds of Mako’s shirt.  Mako finally dropped whatever he had behind him so he could hold his brother. He looked like he was used to this.

“We lost them,” Mako said, after a moment.

“Where are they?”

“No. I mean they’re gone, for good. We’re on our own.”

The clearing was suddenly cold. The world seemed to reorient itself, starting with that last goodbye in front of the school, with Bolin waving over his father’s shoulder, and filling in the story from there. When had it happened? Right after, as Asami was driving home? A week later as she toyed around her father’s workshop? New Year’s eve, while the fireworks went off in the harbour? Sometime that winter,  _ something _ had happened - something that burned itself in Mako and Bolin’s memory like the image of her house in flames was burned into Asami’s. The moment everything changed. And they kept changing, until somehow, they found their way on the streets, and to a little clearing in the park as the sun began to set.

_ We’re on our own.  _ Asami might’ve been lonely at times, but she’d never been truly  _ alone.  _ She had her dad. She had Korra. She had the nannies and guards and chauffeurs and even family friends in distant place who would take her in if she ever needed it. Mako and Bolin only had each other. 

What could she say in the face of tragedy like that?

When her mother died, it was four years ago now, she remembered all the words cast her way. The condolences, the “I’m so sorry”s, the “Just be brave”s - none of it meant anything in the darkness she had been in, none of it could reach her. She remembered what did reach through, all those years ago - Bolin’s smile on the schoolyard, the warmth of Mako’s flame. They’d been there when she needed them. Now it was Asami’s turn to do the same.

Asami didn’t have pre-cut condolences to give, she just had the truth - the pain she’d felt when they’d disappeared from her life and the loneliness that had almost engulfed her in the years after.

She wrapped them both in a hug. “I missed you.”

“We missed you, too,” Bolin said, now staining her shirt with tears.

There were a hundred garbled things she wanted to say. How were they doing? What happened to their parents? What could she do to help? She didn’t get a chance to say any of it. As soon as they pulled away from the hug, a shout of  _ Asami!  _ came from the distance. Her nanny - she’d almost forgotten how she’d gotten here. Asami had to get back before she was reported a missing child.

“I have to go. But I’ll see you two again, okay?”

“You will?” Bolin asked.

“Of course I will.”

“Alright! I’m usually at the train station if you wanna find me. We’re usually not in the park, we get told to leave a lot, but check here if we’re not there. But it’s really lucky we  _ were  _ here today.”

“Yeah, it is.”

In that moment they all knew just how lucky it had been. That the odds that they would’ve missed each other entirely today had been extraordinarily high, and yet here they were. 

Bolin lurched forward and wrapped her in another hug. “I’m really happy we were here today.”

“Me too.” She held him for a moment, before another yell of  _ Asami!  _ rang out in the distance. “I’ll see you again soon, okay? Tomorrow, maybe.”

“Tomorrow! See you then! Bye, Asami!” 

Bolin jumped and swung his arms around as she left, and even Mako managed a wave. She kept turning back to them as she left, until their silhouettes faded into the shrubbery. 

Her nanny hugged her when she returned, exclaiming how she’d thought she’d disappeared, and “Oh dear, it seems like I’ve lost my purse”, and “Asami, never  _ ever  _ run off that far again”. She yammered about her missing purse the entire ride home, concluding with “Oh Asami, let’s never come here again”, while Asami just shrugged in answer. Asami would be coming back to the city tomorrow, maybe with a different nanny, but she’d be there no matter what. Though for now, she had business to get to when she got home. Asami had pages to write to Korra. And it would all start with a big, bold  _ Thank You. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this officially ends the Age of Angst. Here come the tween years - my babies grow up so fast :') Give me two weeks for the next chapter. University's still kicking my ass.
> 
> Also, I've finally made a tumbloid ([@achievement-bender](https://achievement-bender.tumblr.com/)) because that's what all the cool kids are doing these days. I reblog stuff. I try to be funny. I don't know how tags work. But I do plan on posting some more shortform writing there, and I do want to start editing some videos. So if you got a tumblr, come say hi!


	6. The Pen is Mighty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 164-165 A.G.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was not two weeks

“Ooh, you should tell her that yesterday, there was this whole crate of moon peaches just tipped over on the street! Someone must have dropped it or something, but me and Mako took them and I don’t even remember how many I ate last night. I think I’m made up of half moon peach right now.”

Bolin patted his stomach to prove it. The two of them sat on the stairs in front of Central Station, soaking up the midday sun. It was early in the year, the middle of winter, which made sitting outside not particularly pleasant, but if Bolin could bear it, so could she. Asami sat with pen and paper in hand, writing down Bolin’s stories to send with her weekly letter to Korra.

“Shouldn’t you have paced yourself?” she said as she wrote.

“They would’ve rotted and I’d never waste good food.”

“It would’ve taken longer than a day to rot.”

“Well, some days you just gotta treat yourself. Oh! And you can tell her I learned this new earthbending move, it goes like this-”

He shot to his feet and started running through a bending form which sent pebbles jittering across the asphalt.

“Woah, Bolin, slow down! You know I can’t really write that, right?”

He stopped. “Oh, sorry. Here, I’ll go slower.”

Asami snorted and put down her pen. “Here, maybe you should try and write it yourself.”

“That’s a great idea!” Bolin perked up for a moment, but then snapped into nervousness. “But uh… I don’t know how.”

Bolin was kicking at the pebbles he’d been bending a moment earlier, hesitant in a way he rarely was about... anything, really. It was Bolin. If someone asked him to jump in the bay and swim to Air Temple Island, he’d probably smile and try.

“It’s easy,” she told him, smoothing out a new sheet of paper. “I’ll help you,”

“Yeah, I know but I, uh... I don’t know how to write that much. Mako’s been trying to teach me but he’s always busy and he… he doesn’t know it all either.”

That sentence hit her with a force that made the world stutter for a moment. A resounding, _Oh,_ was all she could hear in her head. It was moments like these where, as much as she’d like to think that things were back as they were years ago, when they used to sit by the school wall and laugh while they waited for Mako and Bolin’s parents to pick them up, she remembered things _weren’t_ the same.

Of course he didn’t know how to write. Bolin left school when he was six, Mako when he was eight, and they probably hadn’t had a chance to learn much in the three years since then. There were bigger things to worry about than penmanship when you’re homeless on the street.

It was a shame, really. Bolin loved to learn, if his never-ending questions were anything to go by, and Mako was always a great student - she still remembered working away with him at the back of class all those years ago.

It left a bitter taste in her mouth. It wasn’t fair. Bolin deserved to know. He deserved to be able to read and write at a 4th grade level like any other kid his age.

“I’ll teach you,” she told him, and there was a resoluteness to it.

Bolin brightened up. “You will?”

“Yeah. And once I’m done with you, you’ll be the one teaching Mako.”

The two set to work, using the stairs as a makeshift desk and chair. Sheet after sheet of paper filled up with characters upon characters. Bolin progressed quickly, managing to drag up what he had learned in school from the dredges of his memory. It made her smile, as long as she didn’t think about it too hard. To think how far he might’ve gotten if things hadn’t gone the way they did.

It was too easy to ignore how much things had changed since those years in school, and just how strange their friendship was in the grand scheme of things. It still just felt like two kids, sometimes three, meeting up after school, not an heiress lying about wanting to go to the mall just so she could sneak away and hang out with two street urchins who were prone to steal a few wallets every now and then. Bolin still had his beaming smile, and Mako… well, he’d gotten quieter, but he was usually off who-knows-where doing who-knows-what so she didn’t notice as much anyway.

When the three had first met up again after that day at the park, everything that had changed was still stark in her mind, but she was young and confused and didn’t know what she could do to help. Still, she’d pulled Mako aside and told him she could see what her father could do.

“Maybe he’ll help you. Maybe he’ll let you stay with us. I mean, we’ve got more than enough space to spare.”

Mako had shaken his head. “We can’t. He might help for bit, but nobody’s going to let two random kids on the street stay with them for long. He’d bring us to the police and then we’d be back in some orphanage, right where we started.”

Asami told him, half jokingly, that her house was big enough and her dad was there so rarely that they could probably live there without him ever finding out. He still said no.

“Are you sure?” she’d asked again.

He was sure. They were fine, he told her. They’d be fine.

Regardless, Asami did what she could, portioning out a chunk of her allowance so that she could buy lunch whenever they met, or a new pair of shoes when she noticed Bolin had grown out of his, or a warmer set of gloves when Mako’s had frayed at the seams. Mako usually told her not to bother, assuring her every time that they were fine, that they didn’t need the food or the clothes or the money she offered. Of course that wasn’t always true, but Asami knew that Mako was proud - he’d probably have to be on death's door before he asked her for a single yuan.

So instead, she just sent Bolin home with an extra carton of noodles or something when they went to lunch, which she assumed would eventually reach Mako. He never acknowledged it and neither did she, which worked fine for the both of them. Mako didn’t want to ask, and Asami didn’t need thanks.

Hopefully whatever little she could teach Bolin would reach him too. They kept going over characters until Asami realized she only had one sheet of paper left, so when they got to the actual letter writing, she had to squeeze characters into the scraps for Bolin to copy. His penmanship was messy and unsure with a fair share of mistakes, but the earthbender put enough effort and focus into it that Korra would probably be able to feel it off the page. The inkblots where he pushed the pen down too hard said enough.

Despite not being that proficient in writing, Bolin loved using big words in his letters. Or rather, enjoyed espousing long-winded lexemes when composing his correspondences, as he might put it. Apparently the kid had inhaled a thesaurus sometime in the last three years.

The evening train from downtown pulled into the station with two blaring whistles, which was her cue to start heading home. The earthbender rushed to end the note with a messy “ _Love, Bolin”_ and a quick smiley face, Asami gave him a goodbye hug, grabbed the paper, and headed off as the ink still dried. When she got home, she folded up Bolin’s letter and stacked it beside her own, ready to be sent in the morning.

A week later, she was happily met with two letters in her mail, fresh from the Southern Water Tribe. Bolin absolutely beamed when she met him at the station and he saw his name scrawled over one of the envelopes. Things might’ve changed throughout the years, but that smile was the same as the one he’d had when he bounded up to her in the schoolyard for the first time, asking if she’d like to see his pebble trick.

It wasn’t often that Bolin could make new friends - there weren’t many other kids around, and those that were there had lived on the streets a few years too long, growing sly hands and shifty eyes. Better off kept at a distance. Given that, Bolin could barely sit still while he wrote an answer back to his new penpal. As the weeks went by and the letters went back and forth, Bolin and Korra quickly found things to bond over: probending, fluffy animals, how cool they thought Toph Beifong was, etc.

Bolin sometimes got Mako to tack on a paragraph or two at the end of his letters. At first, just to answer some questions Korra asked which Bolin didn’t know the answer to, and then he was a second opinion whenever his brother and Korra were arguing, until eventually he’d offer a few lines about his day when asked.

The three hit it off pretty fast after that. It shouldn’t have surprised her. Korra and the brother’s had their similarities. They were already friends with Asami. They were all benders. And all three of them shared experience in being a general nuisance to the public. Simply put, Mako was a delinquent, Bolin was a con-artist and Korra was... a handful. Maybe not explicitly criminal, but definitely a handful. Of course, Asami never saw them any less because of their less than tasteful actions - she understood why they did what they did, and at the end of the day, they weren’t hurting anyone much. Besides, while she might not be on the same level of troublemaking as they were, Asami was probably the best straight-faced liar of the group. She had plenty of practice. Every time she met the brothers was predicated on a lie, after all.

Whatever it was they bonded over, Asami didn't care. She was just happy to see them all a little less lonely. Spirits know how often the world made them feel alone.

One day, late in spring, something new arrived in her mailbox. Two letters, as usual, along with a small box wrapped neatly in parcel paper. It rattled when she shook it. She wondered what it could be - then she saw the date scrawled on the underside and grinned.

Spring was ebbing away when she met up with the two at the station, letter and package in hand. She met the earthbender with a hug.

“Happy birthday, Bolin,” she told him, ruffling up his hair. “10 years old. Finally in the double digits.”

“Finally!” Bolin said, grin lighting his face.

She handed the letter to Mako and tossed the box to Bolin, who caught it and scrunched up his eyebrows.

“It’s from Korra,” she said.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. Open it and see.”

He turned the little box in his hands before tearing through the parcel paper. Inside was a wooden case with a lid, which opened to reveal a small, smooth stone that caught the midday sun on its surface.

“What is it?” Bolin asked again, staring enraptured at the glossy stone.

“It’s a meteorite,” Mako read from Korra’s letter, “Apparently there was a meteor shower and that came from one of the meteors that landed.”

“So this came from space? That’s so cool!” Bolin said, then looked up at the sky and yelled, “Thank you, Korra!”

Asami smiled. “You know, beginning metalbenders use meteorites to practice metalbending. They say it’s easier to bend than regular metal.”

“What? That’s even cooler!”

The earthbender instantly tried to bend the stone, straining every muscle in his body and staring at the thing, as if not breaking eye contact would make it obey his will. The metal didn’t even shiver. Asami assured him that he’d get it eventually - metalbenders weren’t built in a day after all, and he was still young. He’d have plenty of time to keep trying, but for now, it was his birthday, and they should celebrate. It would be a lie to say he didn’t look a little bummed, but Bolin let the metal slip into his pocket. They spent the rest of the day going wherever Bolin wanted, which, as it turns out, meant Narook’s for noodles and then an hour at the petstore looking at the animals. He was a kid of simple pleasures.

It was about a month later when another package arrived in the mail. Apparently, Korra was starting a tradition.

_No peeking!_ was scribbled on the front, and Asami was a lady of her word, so she didn’t peek. She just took in the rectangular shape, weighed it, studied the hollow sound it made when she knocked it, maybe sniffed it a tiny bit, and deduced from there that it was a book. Hardcover, approximately 200 pages. Subject unknown.

When her birthday rolled around a few days later, she opened the parcel fold by fold. Her conclusion was correct. A weathered, blue cover rested in front of her. There was no title and it smelled of age, which perhaps meant that it was an antique, or passed down, or one-of-a-kind. She flipped through the pages to see tidy passages accompanied by thin-lined sketches of a myriad of  inventions, from the ostrich-horse cart to the airship to lightning-powered generators.

_What do you get the girl who has everything?_ Korra’s letter read. _I dunno. Still don’t. But hopefully info she can use to make something new is a good enough answer. Happy 12th Asami!_

Asami quickly wrote back that _Yes, that indeed is a fantastic answer, thank you so much._ She spent that night and many after awake in her bed, leafing through the pages, trying to soak up every word she could.

It was no surprise when another box came in the mail a few weeks laters. A larger box than the ones that came before, but not much heavier. She brought it along to the station the next afternoon, where they met atop the station stairs, hiding from the midsummer sun.

Asami tossed the box into Mako’s hands. “Can’t refuse this gift. It came all the way across the ocean for you.”

Mako opened the top and they all huddled in to see what was inside. A thick, brown scarf laid there, meticulously woven and neatly folded. Asami scanned the little note that lay on top of it:

_You said it gets pretty cold in Republic City. Well, nothing’s warmer than arctic yak wool! I know it’s pretty useless now, but hope it helps when winter rolls around!_

Asami couldn’t help but smile at Korra’s thinking. It was a perfect Mako gift. Simple. Practical. On brand. But Mako was looking at the box with a blank expression, and then glanced to the scarf already on his neck.

Asami sighed. “You’re not going to turn this down too, are you?”

Mako pulled at the worn, red fabric. “This was my dad’s scarf.”

“Oh.” There it was again. That little hard-to-swallow reminder of how much things had changed. “I didn’t know.”

Mako shrugged. “I never told you. It’s partly my fault.” He took the scarf out from its box and studied it. “But it’s nice. And it won’t go to waste.”

He wrapped it around his brother’s neck. Bolin stuffed his face into the fur. “Hmm… smells like the South Pole.”

“You’ve never been to the South Pole,” Mako said.

“I can dream, can’t I?”

Korra had started a spark. Three birthdays done, all somewhat close to each other - Bolin’s in late spring, Asami’s in early summer, and Mako’s just a few days past the solstice. Korra’s birthday was early in the year, right in the middle of winter. Asami had a few months till then to figure out what she could get the girl who wanted the world.

“How about a book?” Bolin asked, picking through the shelves of yellowing, wilted paperbacks. The two of them were perusing through a thrift store near the train station, half to look for gift ideas and half just to get out of the autumn rain.

“Maybe,” Asami answered. Books weren’t a bad idea, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed something bigger. More personal.

Bolin picked one of the books from the shelf. “The Completed Collection of the History of Non-Bending Powered Rails. Boring. Sozin’s Comet, Illustrated? Hmm, maybe. Lovers of the Dragon? Uh... I’ll just put this one back.”

“Let’s go look at the tables,” she said before leading them to the displays.

A quick glance at the dust coated knickknacks told her she wasn’t going to find anything here. She sighed and drifted to the clothing racks. Might as well do some winter shopping for Bolin instead.

“Ooh, how about this cool cup? Or this knitted sky bison? Or a lucky coin!”

“Maybe. Stand still for a second,” Asami said, taking a coat from the rack and trying to see if it’d fit the earthbender.

Bolin pouted but obliged. “Well, if there’s nothing here, why don’t you make her something instead? You’re really good at that.”

“Make something? Like what?”

“I dunno. Anything. I’m sure Korra would love anything you make her.”

“Hmm… maybe you’re onto something. I’ll think about it. But first, how about lunch?”

Asami chewed on the idea that night.  She scanned through her bookshelf, picking out the blue spine of the book Korra sent her and spreading it on her desk. _Make something_ \- flipping through a book of inventions was probably a good place to start. Eras flew by, from the Steam Age to the Post-War Age to the Electric Age, until she reached the last page, closed it, and started back up at the beginning. Usually, she glanced past those early chapters, more interested in the engines and pistons that came after but she leafed through each entry patiently today. Si Wong sandsailers. Water Tribe ships. Ostrich-horse saddles.

Something sparked in her mind and Asami sat up straighter in her desk. Korra had mentioned something in a past letter, something about Naga and her saddles. How Naga kept biting through the harnesses. How they had to use arctic yak saddles that weren’t shaped right and barely fit. How no one made polar bear-dog saddles. No one had ever tamed a polar bear-dog before. Now there was the start of an idea.

She scoured her room for a bookmark - Asami never dog-eared her books - and shelved the page for the night. Tomorrow, there’d be research. And later, there’d sketches and experiments and library visits and talks with leather workers in the city. Plans drawn out one line at a time, until she had a blueprint that didn’t end up in the scrap pile and went to her dad to show him. If there was anyone that could help make her plans a reality, it was him.

He studied her blueprints and frowned. Asked if maybe her friend would like a doll or a toy instead. Now it was Asami’s turn to frown because, no, Korra wouldn’t like that at all. She asked if there was something wrong with her design.

The answer was no, not at all, then a sigh. It was just… a little out of his expertise, leather and sinew instead of steel and steam. But he’d help where he could. And she had full access to the workshop and all the tools and materials she needed. But there wasn’t much else he could do to help.

That was enough, though, and the next day she set up in the workshop at a bench beside her dad’s, pinned her blueprints up on a corkboard, and got to work.

The weeks pressed on. New Year’s passed and she’d have to send her gifts soon if she wanted them to reach Korra in time. Before she sent off anything though, she needed to make one more trip into the city.

Clouds masked the sky, making midday feel like fogged up dusk. The streetlamps were dark, their internal clocks insisting that it should be sunny and bright right now, oblivious to the wet and dreary reality. It was honestly a day better spent inside, but she had business to do. A bag slung over her shoulder, empty, so she could carry away whatever it was she was here to pick up. Asami, Mako and Bolin met under the Firelord’s statue, where the fire gave them at least a bit of light.

“Did you bring it, Bo?” Mako asked.

“I put it around here somewhere… aha!” He stomped a foot on the ground, which popped open one of the tiles in the pavement, revealing a weathered looking book hugged in dust.

“Here! We couldn’t get wrapping or anything, but here!”

Bolin thrust the book forward. Asami studied it.

“It’s a book… on bending.”

“Yeah! Me and Mako bought it a few years back when we had a bit of extra money. We learned all our bending from it! I think I’ve read it like a hundred times by now.” He held it to his chest for a second, before handing it over to her. “I’m gonna miss it, but I don’t think I can learn anything else from it. And Korra loves learning about all types of bending so I thought she’d like it!”

“Do you think it’s a good gift?” Mako asked, “I know presents are meant to be new and everything, but…”

Asami had no hesitation. “She’ll love it. Trust me.”

Korra loved bending in all its forms. She had a habit of badgering any earthbending or firebending tourists that came to visit the south, and tried to mesh any forms they taught her into her own brand of fiery, stone-tough waterbending.

She took the book gingerly, packed it into her bag, said her goodbyes and left quickly so the moisture in the air wouldn’t damage the pages too much. Once at home, she wrapped the book up in parcel paper and set it on the crate that held Asami’s gift. She’d have to take them to the post office tomorrow. They didn’t exactly fit the mailbox.

Weeks passed before Korra’s answers reached her desk and Asami was practically buzzing with excitement. She set aside the letter intended for Bolin and Mako before opening up her own.

_I can’t believe you made this._

She couldn’t help but laugh at that.

_No literally, I don’t understand how you made this. I never gave you measurements, how in Yue’s name did you get it to fit so perfectly? And the harnesses too? And I don’t know what you made it out of but somehow Naga can’t chew through it???_

Photo analysis was how she got the measurements, taking a ruler to the photos of Naga Korra sent her and extrapolating the data. It was tiresome, but she couldn't just ask Korra for measurements or that would’ve ruined the surprise. As for material, Asami had tested for durability. The leathers from the south were all a little soft - otter-penguin, arctic camel, tiger-seal -  so Asami had to look a little more international. As it turned out, Naga’s teeth couldn’t be tamed by anything less than double-layered komodo rhino hide.

_By all laws of physics, this shouldn’t be possible. But I guess I should never underestimate a Sato._

Attached to the end was a photo of Naga in full harness and Korra sitting atop her back. When she’d made the harnesses, Asami had actually made two - one streamlined, simple harness, and the other one decorative. Naga wore the latter one, the etchings on the straps jutting out against the polar bear-dog’s fur. Connecting the lines of the harness was a leather patch at Naga’s chest, dyed with the colors of the Water Tribe. On the flipside of the patch would be a stenciled Future Industries logo, because, well, an inventor had to brand herself somewhere. All along the harness hung tassels, giving Naga a sort of fringed necklace. At the end of those threads were knots which could be made to hold something small - knick-knacks, keepsakes, ornaments, whatever memorabilia Korra would doubtless amass throughout her life.  

Asami had started her off with one keepsake - the little wooden dove Korra had made her all those years ago. Looking closer though, Asami could see Korra had added at least one thing to the harness - the little mechanical dove Asami had made, flying right beside the wooden one.

Korra herself was beaming from where she sat. Naga’s tail was blurry, caught mid wag.

_Naga loves it. I love it. Thank you so much Asami. I don’t know what I’m going to do for your birthday to top this._

It wasn’t something she had to worry about, as it turned out, because the greatest gift Korra ever gave her came just a few months after, in the form of a letter written in rushed script, that simply read:

_We finally did it! We saved enough money! You guys better get ready because I’m coming to Republic City this summer and you gotta deal with it!_


End file.
